Cruel World(66)

“Let’s be quick,” Alice said, her eyes locked on the bloody splashes around the leg.

“Yep,” Quinn said, stopping at a pump.

When he stepped out, the air picked at his shirt, running its cool hands across his shoulders and neck. He shivered and looked up, avoiding the sight of the Rabbit and what was left of its occupant. The lights in the canopy still burned, and there were dark zeros in the digital readout of the pumps. Quinn filled the Tahoe’s tank and then re-filled the half-empty gas can in the back of the vehicle, all the while watching for movement behind the plate glass of the station or in the barren field filled with the prior year’s weeds.

When he finished, they left the station behind and cruised into Belford itself. The town was small with what appeared to be two main streets intersecting at its center. The outlying boundaries were filled with homes, yards beginning to green now that the snow was completely gone, dark windows gazing at them as they rolled past. A grocery store sat on the closest corner, coupons plastered against the inside of the front doors. Darkness hung inside the store, only the first rows of food visible from the street.

Quinn pulled the Tahoe to a stop at the curb, waiting for a full minute before putting the vehicle in park. They watched the street for a while, a dirty napkin and a plastic bag drifting on the sidewalk, the shine of the silver water tower looming above the buildings. Quinn leaned forward, squinting into the glare.

“What?” Alice asked.

“Thought I saw something move on the water tower.”

They both scanned the scaffold surrounding the bulbous structure, its top wearing a triangular hat of steel.

“I don’t see anything,” Alice said, sitting back.

“No, me neither.”

“Me neither,” Ty said, then giggled.

Alice closed her eyes, shaking her head. “Tyrus, that’s terrible.” To Quinn she said, “He picked up a twisted sense of humor somewhere.”

Ty continued to laugh, and Quinn glanced at her. “Yeah, wonder where?”

He scanned the street again, shooting a final look at the water tower before opening his door. Dirt crackled beneath his boots as he made his way to the Tahoe’s rear and drew out his AR-15. Checking the safety, he stopped at the driver’s side.

“I’ll go in and have a look around, and if it’s okay, we can all carry a few things out,” he said. He saw Alice’s eyes shift to a newer model Ford pickup a ways down the street.

“We’ll load our things in that truck. You can have the Tahoe back,” she said.

“No, I’ll take the truck. You guys keep this. I’d feel better about you having it.” Alice started to protest, but he held up a hand. “If I can’t come with you, this is the only way I can help. Honk if there’s trouble.”

With that, he shut the door, cutting off her rebuttal, and moved to the front of the grocery store. He had to wedge his fingers between the doors and pry them apart, but once he did, they slid aside easily. He stopped in the entryway, letting his eyes adjust to the dark, his nose adjust to the stench the store held like trapped breath after the clean air outside. Quinn listened, his heartbeat the only sound in his ears. He stepped further into the store and flicked on the light mounted to his gun.

The grocery wasn’t as large as some of the big chain stores they’d passed in Portland, but it still stretched further than his flashlight could reach. Many of the shelves were stripped bare, goods busted open and crushed on the floor. Three cash registers sat in designated lanes, their drawers open like surprised mouths, cash drooling over their lips. Quinn moved forward, his boots crunching chips and walnuts.

He froze as a sound came to him. Had something clicked farther in the building, or had it been an echo of his own passage? He turned and surveyed the bright street outside. The Tahoe sat where he’d left it, Alice visible in the front seat, her gun poking out the side window. Quinn waited another span before moving forward, his light swinging from side to side.

In the third aisle to his left, he found a stack of canned goods that had tipped over and rolled in every direction. Stew, soup, corn, beets, peas, chili, and more appeared in his beam. At the far end of the aisle, two cases of bottled water sat beside a cardboard box filled to the rim with food. He shined the light across its position, taking in the careful way it was packed along with the shattered jar of spaghetti sauce, two footprints leading toward the rear of the store.

Movement came from behind him and he tried to spin, bringing up the rifle, but a cold circle of steel buried itself into the soft skin behind his ear.